


Shoot With Both Hands

by fictorium



Category: Damages
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Gun Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-05
Updated: 2010-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patty and Ellen have been dancing around each other for so long, something finally has to give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoot With Both Hands

  
**WARNING** : guns, violence and thoughts of death feature prominently.

Ellen scores a cheap point with the news about Michael, because it couldn't have been hard for her to find out that mother and son are not on speaking terms. The word _grandmother_ sounds foreign as it falls from Ellen’s mouth, and it takes Patty a long moment to catch that particular drift. Patty knows all too well that brief gleam of cruel satisfaction that flickers through Ellen's eyes, since it's been reflected back at her in the mirror for years.

  
It's almost homely, without Tom to spoil their tension. He's a facilitator, always there to smooth the way when Patty gets too aggressive or a client gets too emotional. He keeps the wheels turning while Patty sets the course, and for Ellen he's a convenient shield to hide behind while plotting her next move. Without him, there's no gray area and no safe space to retreat to. There's only Patty, Ellen and the sparks that never seem to stop flying.

  
Patty gets control of herself quickly enough, the fluster that is showing on her burning cheeks begins to fade and Ellen pretends not to be watching. Small talk dispensed with, Patty stands to leave and Ellen is ready to show her out like a gracious hostess.

  
Somewhere between the coffee table and the front door it goes wrong.

  
Perhaps it's the combination of heels and inexpensive wood flooring, but Patty stumbles just slightly as she takes the first few steps. It can't be the shock; it can't be the world-tilting news about Michael and that bitch who stole him away. Ellen offers a steadying arm without thinking about it, and when Patty's hand clutches at her bare forearm, both women gasp at the contact.

  
So much has passed between them in three years, but so little has been physical. An invasion of personal space in nondescript bathrooms, yelled arguments with no more than a desk to separate them, that’s about as close as they’ve come. They've promised loyalty and threatened death, and here they are still, unable to be separated.

  
Patty tells herself not to look up, not to meet the feigned innocence of Ellen's expression, but she does and in that instant she's screwed. Ellen isn't trying to look naive, the standard trick for a younger woman out of her depth. Instead her head is tilted to the left, her expression a mixture of horror and confusion as she realizes what is passing between them. There's no mistaking the way she nervously licks her lips though, and Patty finally has proof that the attraction between them is mutual.

  
For too long Patty has denied this particular reality, dismissing it as a form of midlife crisis or the unfortunate side-effect of shared, intense experiences. Ellen Parsons would not be the first junior associate to think that seducing Patty would be a quicker path to progression than spouting precedent, but until now Patty has dismissed her own fascination as an indulgence, a strange little notion she can’t afford to entertain. But as she's hemorrhaged people from her life in a steady stream of death or desertion, Ellen has become the constant she can't seem to shake.

  
With a shaking hand, Patty reaches out and lets her fingertips skim across the smooth curtain of Ellen's hair. Ellen's eyes flutter closed for just a moment, and she swallows, hard. When her eyes open again, she yanks Patty towards her, reducing the space between their bodies to no more than an inch. Patty doesn't have time to measure because Ellen's mouth is on hers, and the kiss makes her feel drunk from the first electric contact of their lips.

  
Ellen doesn't kiss demurely, it's just another misplaced assumption that she would. Patty enjoys being wrong, a rarity in itself, as Ellen parts her lips and kisses Patty with a ferocity that leaves them both breathless. Not that Patty is passive in this, she revels in the warmth and wetness of Ellen's lips and tongue, and likes to think that she gives every bit as good as she gets.

  
They shuffle and stumble in an awkward dance towards the bedroom. Patty hopes they're heading for the bedroom, anyway, because her days of necking on uncomfortable sofas are far behind her. Shoes are kicked off in lazy flicks of their feet, and Patty's jacket is shoved off her back before they get past the kitchen counter.

  
There's the briefest hesitation from Ellen when her hands break from cupping Patty's breasts through her crisp black shirt to undo the first button. This is another point of no return, but they've been smashing through those since the first day they met. She recovers in an instant, tugging at the small circles and not caring if she wreaks any damage on the designer silk.

  
Patty yanks Ellen's top over her head as they cross the bedroom threshold, and it gives her a moment to feel like she's back in control. With Ellen at a disadvantage, Patty can survey the room for a second, but there’s nothing much to see beyond the neat, dark sheets on the bed and the few abandoned items of clothing that suggest this room is very much lived in.

  
The discreet little zipper on the side of her skirt gives way to Ellen’s nimble fingers, and Patty finds herself pushed back on the mattress as the material pools around her ankles. Ellen kneels over her, bestowing one more slightly frantic kiss before letting her mouth wander down across the sensitive skin of Patty’s throat.

  
The sensations travel straight through Patty, causing her nipples to tighten in anticipation while her clit throbs in perfect counterpoint. Wanting something this much, for this long, has to be unhealthy. There are a million reasons why this should never happen, but not one stands up in the face of Ellen’s warm mouth and the way that Patty’s skin flushes in response to her every touch.

  
Dizzy with want—or worse, need—Patty covers her eyes with her hand. The other remains on Ellen’s shoulder, arguably to guide her as the explorations of her lips continue across Patty’s collarbone, but honestly, Patty has no idea what she wants beyond Ellen, beyond _now_.

  
Ellen mutters some kind of protest that sounds like “look at me”, and Patty removes her hand in compliance. She doesn’t know what scares her more – that Ellen is giving commands, or that she’s willing to do whatever the hell she’s told. Her hand falls back onto the pillow as she watches Ellen straddle her hips; that long, dark hair trailing across Patty’s chest before Ellen sits up. While Ellen’s hands reach around to undo her own bra, Patty’s fingers slip underneath the pillow while she squirms just a little.

  
Cold, hard metal is the last thing she’s expecting, but there’s no mistaking it once her knuckles graze it. Mesmerized by Ellen’s now uncovered breasts, Patty manages to note that Ellen’s head is tilted back as she twists gently at her own nipples. With her head tipped back, it takes the younger woman a moment too long to notice what Patty has retrieved, but she doesn’t seem shaken at the sight of a gun in Patty’s hand.

  
Instead Ellen reaches for the weapon quite calmly and Patty gives it up without a struggle. There’s a gleam in Ellen’s eyes, and her slightly smoky makeup reminds Patty of a night not too long ago when she thought her former associate was one pull of the trigger away from killing her. Even if they’re back there now, Patty thinks it might almost be worth it if Ellen lets her come first.

  
It’s a pathetic admission, and not one that she’d ever make out loud, but Patty can’t do anything about that. Ellen’s own skirt is hiked up around her waist, so Patty takes the opportunity to let her hands roam over Ellen’s bare thighs, and Ellen moans in approval. She slumps forward just a little, the gun still in her hand as she leans with her hands either side of Patty’s head. In a moment of daring, Patty stretches up just enough to capture Ellen’s nipple in her mouth, and when the first few strokes of her tongue draw encouragement, she grazes the erect little bud with her teeth.

  
As Ellen’s hips begin to move, apparently against her will, she pulls away from Patty and falls down beside her. Patty cries out at the loss, but is silenced as Ellen places the gun on her stomach without letting it go. Forcing herself to breathe, Patty is frozen as Ellen trails the slightly rough edge of the barrel along Patty’s abdomen, all the way down to the waistband of her silk panties.

  
She doesn’t know if it’s loaded, doesn’t know if Ellen is still consumed with enough anger or hatred to pull the trigger, but Patty can’t help but buck her hips at the prospect of some much needed contact between her legs. She’s dripping wet and already aching for release, so it doesn’t sting as much as she would have thought when Ellen chuckles in her ear.

  
“You want this so badly, you’d let me fuck you with anything I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

  
Patty swallows a sarcastic response, and nods without meeting Ellen’s mocking gaze. The whimper that escapes Patty’s lips disgusts her, but she’s fast approaching the point where she’ll stop caring, stop trying to control her responses.

  
“Well for once, Patty, this isn’t all about you.”

  
Ellen proves her point quite succinctly by sitting up just long enough to pull off her panties and shove away her crumpled skirt, before straddling Patty once more. Only this time, she’s straddling Patty’s face and there’s no time for a conversation about who’s done what before today. There’s only the slick and intoxicating evidence of Ellen’s arousal, and Patty can think of nothing she wants more than to swipe her tongue across it. So she does.

  
It’s not difficult, all things considered. Patty’s smart mouth has long been her greatest asset, and she puts it to use as best as she knows how. Working from the what-not-to-dos that various lovers have taught her, she strokes her tongue through the folds in a steady rhythm, before allowing it to dip inside in pulsating little thrusts. Ellen grabs the headboard at that, and Patty knows she’s doing something right.

  
She doesn’t know where the gun is now, and she doesn’t care, because her newest all-consuming obsession is seeking out Ellen’s clit. She finds it in a matter of seconds and proceeds to lavish powerful strokes of her tongue on it until Ellen makes a cry of her own, and carries on until Ellen can’t make any more noise.

  
With a distinct lack of finesse, Ellen moves just far enough to collapse on top of Patty. Her skin is pleasantly warm, just a little damp with sweat, and Patty would give up everything she owns not to have to move from this exact spot. It can’t last forever, she knows, but Ellen presses a soft kiss to her jaw and Patty thinks that she could be persuaded to move after all, if there’s more to come.

  
Although she still seems a little punch-drunk (and Patty can’t help but feel smug about that), Ellen is deft in her movements, her mouth making swift progress towards Patty’s breasts. Teasing around and through the lace of Patty’s bra seems to content Ellen at first, but before long the younger woman is removing the barrier between them with slightly fumbling fingers. The slightest lack of composure is comforting to Patty, and it’s the most human she’s felt in a long time. No fucking by numbers here, and it’s real enough to include the nervousness and excitement she’d grown not to expect from her partners.

  
Ellen lets one hand slip lower across Patty’s abdomen, her mouth still occupied with rhythmic teasing of Patty’s nipple. It’s another relief, because right now Patty doesn’t want to feel self-conscious about the faint silvery traces of stretchmarks, even though her stomach is about as flat as she could hope for. She doesn’t want to feel old or damaged, not when Ellen is young and vibrant and driving her ever closer to delicious insanity.

  
And then Patty stops thinking, and analyzing, and worrying because Ellen has slipped two long fingers inside her and has the circling pressure of her thumb on Patty’s clit. Time stops, or rushes forward perhaps, and in the midst of the blurring colors and distorted sounds, Patty’s body stretches in exquisite tension before she snaps in a burst of sobbing little moans.  It isn't gentle, and it hurts just enough to be perfect.

  
When she comes back to herself, when words have meanings again, Patty realizes she can’t remember the last time she came like that. She doesn’t know that she’d survive coming like that again, but it would definitely be worth finding out.

  
Her head lolls to the side, tension having seeped from every last inch of her body. Ellen has fallen on top of her again, her head tucked under Patty’s chin. Metal, not so shockingly cold now, grazes Patty’s cheek and in that moment the entirety of their past comes rushing in. She doesn’t want to ask, but she has to know.

  
“Is it loaded?”

  
Her voice sounds loud in the stillness of the room, though both women were making considerably more noise moments ago. Ellen doesn’t lift her head, doesn’t move a muscle as she breathes softly against Patty’s chest.

  
“Yeah.”

  
Which is, Patty supposes, only fair. She doesn’t protest, or lecture, because she’s the reason that any of this is necessary. She turned Ellen’s life upside down, but that turned out to be a pre-emptive strike, since Ellen has spent three years doing exactly the same to Patty in return.

  
Despite the loss, and the violence, and the angry tears, Patty thinks that being here in Ellen’s bed might just have made it all worth it. She just hopes she’ll remember this feeling tomorrow, because this can’t ever happen again.

  
Somehow, she thinks Ellen will understand.


End file.
